A
thought comes . . .
From
where into words?
Thoughts
about thought,
dissipating
footprints in a chosen stream.
Are
we but living heirs,
inheriting
thought
like
spoiled children,
devoted
to the take,
never
working pre-thought first hand,
a
just of conscious commentary,
.
. . never deeper,
never
to know.
Who
in us, calls out "next thought"?
Who
blessedly blind-dances us together?
We
are more than
just
anonymous oxygen to breath!
A
thought comes . . .
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